#don't be like me kids don't like to your landlords about things that are difficult to hide

[indelen]

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea, I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part II, Chapters 7-8:

35 Portland Row is such a perfect home base. An urban Hobbit Hole. Magician’s nephew townhouse. Familiar and homey, yet exiting and unusual. Just the right amount of familiar and unfamiliar things that would appeal to a kid. The tantalizing fantasy of independence mixed with the fear of the outside world that the young target audience first starts to comprehend at that age. The dream of living with your crush and all your friends, eating donuts for breakfast, staying up to all hours of the night, being dashing, running things, having swords, being better at something than the adults who are an arbitrary force you put on a façade and appease and try to get rid of as soon as possible. Your challenge being comprehending mortality, coming to terms that death is a part of life and can happen to anyone around you, even your most loved ones. And your enemy being corrupt adults who run corporations that already traded your future, all your hopes and dreams, all your potential for just a bit more money, prestige, life they desire. It says something that a book for a modern teenager is one about kids just trying to survive in a world adults ruined and how difficult it is to keep a place of your own and your integrity safe and in one piece.

Miscellaneous:

It's sweet that Lockwood sees Portland Row as being not just "his" but belonging to anyone who is part of the agency. This is his home, legally he is the sole owner of it, but he views the house as Lucy's and George's in equal measure because they are part of Lockwood and Co. He opens his home to people not in the manner of a landlord (we don't really ever find out if he charges Geroge or Lucy any rent, I suspect he doesn't although informally they all probably pitch in on maintenance). What I love about Lockwood is he's such a paradox, he's extremely inviting and yet intensely closed off. He both opens his home to friends and craves a family and is also deeply emotionally stunted and detached.

George has lived with Lockwood for only maybe a year or so and the agency has only been registered three months and yet he gives off such intense "Elizabeth from Accounts Payable whose been with the company for twenty years and has weathered every kind of bullshit and is counting down to retirement" vibes like, Sir, how do you sound so 50 at 15?

Lockwood is so funny because one moment he's actually being a good boss and agency head – conducting good interviews, watching for emotional responses, making background checks on potential hires, giving a tour to new employee where he firmly but politely draws boundaries - and then the next moment he's absolutely peacocking to a cute girl like "look, look, I'm also powerful and a big deal!"

I also think it's funny that Lockwood strikes out with Lucy a lot more from the beginning then we realize. Lucy is traumatized, emotionally immature and has not been socialized properly. Her self-confidence has been worn away by her "prettiness is not your job" mother and having to be the breadwinner for her family so early in life. There are these moments early on where someone more adept at flirting would have picked up on Lockwood being a showoff and maybe played with it, but bless her she's 13 going on 14 here, literally no one can flirt at that age so she's just incapable of seeing what is going on or give it any time of day. It's no wonder that it takes them literal years to get anywhere.

Also, who let Lockwood keep that watch? no one right? He stole it. He told the cops there's a shitload of death glows in a garden and they probably brought him along to raid the home of a serial killer to help look evidence or whatever and there was a watch lying around and Lockwood was like “ooooooh for my murder scrapbook!” and swiped it.

The mention of an uncle early on is such a clever thing because it’s relevant to the plot during the interview to show how sensitive Lucy really is, but it’s also a red herring. When George mentions Lockwood losing his parents young and him being “in care” of some relative, the reader immediately thinks "ah yes, that must have been that nice uncle!" It lets us assume that whatever mystery there is about the room it must be about his parents. It's why the reveal at the end of Whispering Skull is such a surprise and shows just how little we know about him.

Yea she's gone.

It took less than a week for her to go from describing Lockwood as looking like "a priest on a toilet" to this teenage horniness. My disaster crush in Gr.7 had about the same trajectory. Also reminds me of Mei's completely realistically portrayed crush on Some Convenience Store Guy in "Turning Red". Flips on like a switch and before you know it, you're doodling the most mortifying thing ever conceived my man. 13 is such a cursed age, my god.

I’ve mentioned this before in a post, but Lucy lashes out at people for things she hates about herself. Her internal gripes about Geroge are not that he’s rude (even though he definitely is to her) she’s not mean about him being objectively less Talented then her, she’s never makes fun of him for being smarter or better educated than she is. Lucy can handle outright hostility pretty well and she’s not self-conscious about her talent or lack of education. But she is, I think, deeply insecure about her appearance. And like so many girls her age it’s the chink in her armor she knows to hide and wallpaper over with dismissal and disdain. She pretends she doesn’t care but she does, and the more her feelings for Lockwood grow the more it shows in how she talks about herself and how she talks about others.

Sometimes you’re reading a book and oooh there’s a romance subplot and A falls for B (often instead of C or D) and you think … but why? why is A in love with B actually? What is it about them that makes the attraction click? But with Lucy it’s so obvious why she is almost immediately taken with Lockwood, but also why she doesn’t realize it. From Lucy’s POV, for all his flaws Lockwood is the opposite of what Jacobs was. He enters with the teams and he’s the last to leave (he even jumps out the burning building last). She doesn’t feel alone and unsupported. He takes accountability for any error on the case, easily and without any shifting of blame. Sure he’s vainglorious and a bit irresponsible and impulsive and all that. He’s 14-15 at most - that’s normal enough and she’s a kid like him, she gets it. But Lockwood is also a kid burdened with a lot of responsibly and I think Lucy is in a unique position to appreciate this and admire him for taking it on as he does. And that admiration neatly tricks her into thinking that’s all there is to her feelings for a long, long time because she can’t tell her feels apart worth a damn.

I’m going to start a Lucy describes Lockwood’s smile count: 6

[jinmukangwrites]

Mystery Upstairs - Chapter 7

Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU), Marvel, Daredevil

Rating: G

Warnings: mentions of panic attacks, mild cop violence, canon typical violence, Matt taking the Lord's name in vain, the author not knowing if taking the Lord's name in vain is something Catholics worry about, the author not knowing every detail on how the legal system works and will tell you to blame Foggy on getting anything wrong and not the author themself.

Ao3

Summary: Peter needed a place to stay after the universe forgot about him. Luckily, there's a complex in Hell's Kitchen that won't ask questions. It's only chance that Peter recognizes the face of the Lawyer upstairs.

Meanwhile, Matt cannot help himself from checking in on his new, young neighbor who couldn't be old enough to be out of highschool

----

"I think I don't know is becoming one of my least favorite things to hear, ever," Foggy said after a full 15 seconds of silence. Funnily enough, Foggy wasn't lying.

Matt had just finished explaining the basics of the whole Peter situation, telling most of the information that he knew—leaving out specifically that Peter had somehow reacted to May Parker's name, that wasn't something he couldn't give anything more than speculation on... speculation that also had a lot of I don't know's that would just make Foggy more angry with Matt. 

Foggy, previously happy to see the conversation had switched to something he potentially had more opportunity to involve himself in—legal involvement was his favorite kind of involvement—had unfortunately started asking questions that mattered.

Where did Peter come from? Who were his parents? Why was he on his own? How old was he? Matt please tell me you at least know his last name. Ok, does anyone else find it weird his last name is Parker? That's a little weird right? Yes I know May Parker didn't have any living relatives but come on it's a little weird right? Matt you have that look on your face that you agree it's a little weird. What do you mean drop it?!

Matt sighed, and Foggy dropped it, though Karen's tense posture certainly suggested she hadn't, which was in character. He'd let her do her thing, her job was to snoop, he needed Foggy to focus on the legal things.

"Listen," Foggy continued, "people lose legal documents all the time. House fires, robbery, carelessness, runaways. Everything can be replaced with fee's and various proof of other kinds of identification — but what I'm hearing is that this kid has nothing and that's infinitely more difficult. The Blip made getting identification without proof of citizenship easier, yeah, but it's still difficult. How does he even have a place to stay?"

"He's paying in cash," Matt replied, thoughtfully. "Enough cash that any greedy landlord would happily brush some rules under the rug for."

"Drop the greedy adjective," Foggy waved his hand, "that's all landlords."

"Point stands."

"How'd he even get that cash?" Karen asked, intrigue lacing her breath. "If he doesn't have a job, let alone a way to legally be hired for a job..."

"Probably stole it from his parents," Foggy suggested. "Or robbed a bank. Or he had a job, lost it, got everything liquidized before booking it here to his current situation."

"That's a lot of allegations," Matt sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest—eyebrows lowered so they brushed against his glasses. "There has to be a way to help him out. People show up out of nowhere all the time."

"We've helped people get their lives back before, the Blip gave us plenty of work," Karen said.

Foggy reminded her before Matt could, rubbing his chin and pacing slightly. "So many people needed their identities back that it was easy to help them. All you had to do really was say you're a lawyer and your client needs a social security card pretty please and the government would give you it just so they could get to the millions of other requests."

Foggy knew more about this line of legal work than Matt did. Foggy liked to help everyone, while Matt usually buried his head into the ones deemed unhelpable.

"The processes for the Blip still exist, I thought?" Matt didn't mean to make it sound like a question. Or well, it sounded like a question to himself, the rise of his voice was just barely caught, for his ears alone. "It hasn't been that long."

"Yes, but long enough they're getting strict again with the process. Plenty of people have jumped onto the opportunity to get documents that they legally shouldn't have. Power to them, really, but it's made it so they'll need more proof — testaments of friends and family, good lawyers, dental records, anything they can get their hands on to prove that you one: was a legal citizen pre-Blip, and two: proof that you blipped at all. Did he Blip?"

"I don't know." Foggy rolled his eyes. "I'm sure the process could be easier with the right lawyers, regardless," Matt suggested.

Foggy sighed, catching the hint. The sigh alone answered the unasked question on whether or not Foggy would help Matt with this. "Just tell me why you want to help so bad, and then I'll get on more research."

Matt smiled. "He's... interesting. Everything about him is a question. Besides, he's a good kid. I'd hate to sit back and watch him fall into homelessness just because of a few missing IDs."

That, and the fact that there were irresistible puzzles to the kid that he didn't mention because of the aforementioned speculation. What did Peter go out and do at night? Why had he reacted so strongly to Matt's phone call with Karen?

"Alright," Foggy said, resigned. "I'll get on it. Just promise me this isn't going to lead us down a huge rabbit hole of the kind of shit you deal with."

Karen scoffed. "Don't make him promise anything he can't keep."

The mood lightened with the semblance of a plan. The three of them settled in to discuss the next steps. Karen would continue to dig into May Parker, Foggy would look into getting IDs for a kid that didn't governmentally exist, and Matt would return home to a fixed embosser and win the looming lawsuit.

-o0o-

Peter blinked as the scream of sirens outside pulled him out from his deep concentration.

Ambulance sirens, two cops, a firetruck...

He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. The time on the oven read nearly midnight and the embosser on his table was just a few screws left of being repaired.

Or, temporarily repaired. Repaired enough to print Mr Murdock's notes and give Peter time to scramble for something to replace the bit's that'll inevitably break again the next time Mr Murdock needed things printed.

The sirens traveled away from him, angry and wailing. They were traveling deeper into Hell's Kitchen, and he desperately scolded himself before his curiosity could even bubble up and wonder where they were going.

Unfortunately, pushing down that curiosity just made him remember the sounds of the sirens that followed May's death...

Maybe he should take a break. Get out of Hell's Kitchen and punch some bad guys. He could tell Mr Murdock he stopped working on the embosser to sleep, so he didn't need to worry about getting paid more than what he could stomach.

The decision was easily made. He noted the time, determined to not get paid for this hour, then scrambled for the suit that he'd stuffed inside his bag.

-o0o-

The fact that it felt good to deck someone across the face probably should have worried Peter, but he felt too good to think about it.

This was doing something. Peter Parker found himself inexplicably erased, trapped in an ocean of isolation, drowning in lies that he couldn't even begin to tell the truth about. But Spider-Man? That guy didn't have to worry about that. That guy could make a difference—a memorable difference—every night. Every victim he helped.

It was a run-of-the-mill theft. Some old man had decided nighttime was the perfect time for a stroll, and some younger spry had thought it was the perfect opportunity to get himself a few extra dollars. The thief had been aggressive, not gun aggressive, knife aggressive, and Spider-Man couldn't have that.

"Woah, dude, watch where you're stabbing that thing, could take an eye out!"

A duck-and-weave around the swinging knife was all it took for Peter to close in. The tense of his arm was familiar, and the impact of his fist was true. He wasn't the best trained at knife-to-hand combat, but most of his problems could just be solved by being really hard to hit combined with the fact he had a bit more strength to use than everyone else.

The thief cried out, crashing back onto his backside and unwittingly throwing his knife to the side in favor of grabbing his smarting jaw.

Something, somewhere deep down, was disappointed that the fight wouldn't last more than a single duck-weave-punch, though the majority of Peter felt pleased with himself. He webbed up the jerk, grabbed the snatched wallet, then returned it to the grateful old man with a smile that creased the eye lenses of his mask.

"Thank you so much," the old man said, shaking Peter's hand. "You're that spider kid, aren't you?"

"Spider-Man," Peter corrected—that something somewhere wincing a bit.

Peter was erased. Spider-Man wasn't. Not all the way. People still knew Spider-Man. J. Jonah Jameson still ranted about him on the news. People recognized the colors he wore, and people tended to thank him by his superhero name.

The only thing about Spider-Man that got torn up by the fabric of the universe was Peter. Anyone who had known him as both identities no longer did, every interaction with Peter being replaced by unnameable recognition or a complete lack of memory in the first place. To what extent? Peter had no idea. He hadn't tried to seek anyone out who had known him as both, well, besides Mr Murdock, but that wasn't exactly on purpose. He also didn't count visiting MJ’s workplace that one time.

Besides, if Mr Murdock was anything to go by, anyone who worked with Spider-Man mask-off didn't remember a single conversation; wrapped up in a mystery of how they knew May Parker that they'll never get the answers to.

He wasn't going to try and see if MJ or Ned or Happy or Doctor Strange were any different.

Besides, he had no idea what would happen if he did regain a relationship with these people. Would the fabric of reality tear itself apart again? He'd love nothing more than to see Peter 2 and 3 again, but he couldn't risk their villains following them through again. What if they came for Peter 1 again? What if they went after his home, blew up the complex, and killed Mr Murdock in the process? What if they went after MJ? Ned? What if Doctor Strange couldn't fix it next time?

He squished that something somewhere further down, refusing to follow those thoughts deeper while he was literally shaking the hand of someone he'd just saved.

Feeling forcefully light and happy, Spider-Man swung through familiar neighborhoods, wishing just a little that he could take off the mask and feel the wind go through his hair. When he passed the busy streets, people pointed up and called out in excitement; when he passed over shady alleyways, shady people quickly split off. Sometimes, his presence was the only thing needed to discourage crime. It made him feel great, like Batman or something. Batman if he was cool and had a great sense of humor.

The night passed on, and almost nothing went wrong. No pooches were screwed. It was nearing sunrise and the semblance of rush hour had begun with the first few cars. He mentally planned the path back to his apartment. He almost got on that, until something shouted at him to stop.

He had already been stopped, mind you, standing awkwardly in a quiet alleyway looking at the street names because none of the buildings nearby were big enough to get a great enough view of the city. But his senses still went off, and someone authoritative commanded him to stop, and something clicked that sounded suspiciously like the safety on a pistol.

He swiveled his body around, frowning at the sight of the cop that stood at the other end of the alleyway, knees shaking and face twisted in confliction.

Uh. Okay? Peter wasn't exactly new to cops showing aggression to him. He had plenty pull their weapons on him at the beginning of his superhero career, and plenty more after Mysterio outed him and accused him of his murder.

But when he had joined the Avengers and fought Thanos... cops didn't do that. He was above their pay-grade, the FBI tended to want to deal with Spider-Man instead, but couldn't because of the mountains of paperwork they'd have to go through. The mountains of paperwork Mr Stark had made himself to make sure no national or international forces could get to him unless he committed an actual crime. Sure, yeah, the Mysterio stuff was an actual crime in their eyes and got Peter in alotta trouble, but after erasing his identity, everyone had gone back to not bothering him.

"Uh, you okay, officer?" He asked.

"Spider-Man," the cop said, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and Peter frowned deeper as the cop didn't even really talk to him there. He had one hand on the pointed gun, the other at the walk-y at his jugular. "It's Spider-Man."

Peter took a step forward and the cop freaked. "Hands up! Get down on your knees! Y-You're under arrest."

The cop really didn't sound like he wanted to be saying those words.

"I'm sorry? What did I do?" Peter slowly got down on his knees, not quite willing to freak out the cop more yet but confident he could swing away if anything escalated as they often did with freaked out cops.

"We have a warrant for your arrest," the officer said, not approaching, he was afraid to. Peter stayed silent and still, the information hitting him in the gut.

But... but the police couldn't arrest him? They didn't have a reason to?

The cop returned to his walk-y, asking for backup, telling his location.

"What are the accusations?" Peter asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. "I'm protected, you have to have a reason."

"Orders from above," the cop said, "I don't know any more... I'm sorry. All the stations across the city have been ordered to take you in."

Well, at least the cop genuinely sounded sorry.

"Orders from who?"

"Some DODC agent," the cop said, his fingers trembling.

Alright.

He heard sirens in the distance and Peter made the quick decision that he should probably scatter; he really didn't fancy getting arrested to sate his curiosity.

He whipped his arm out, shooting with superhuman accuracy to knock the cop's gun out of his hand and stick it to a nearby wall. The man started shouting, hassling to pull out some other weapon, but Peter was already swinging away, his heart to his throat.

-o0o-

Peter's leg bounced as he sat at his kitchen table, staring at the TV as JJJ happily announced that Spider-Man had refused a warrant for his arrest just hours before, which was obvious proof of his criminal and dangerous behavior.

He was going on and on, clearly very happy with the development, and Peter would love nothing more than to turn off the TV and have a very big panic attack, but before JJJ started talking, they had announced that some agent was going to guest on the broadcast and explain more of the situation.

It took fifteen minutes for JJJ to invite the agent on, and when he did, Peter's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

P. Cleary.

"Fu-"

-o0o-

"I can say for everybody that it's about damn time the DODC is taking actions against that masked menace."

"Spider-Man has been going under the radar for too long," the agent replied. Cleary. Jameson had introduced the agent a few minutes before. Matt wished he had some sort of visual description of the guy, he sounded like an asshole and he was willing to bet his nicest cane that he looked like one too. "While the Sokovia Accords have been repealed, order is still required when dealing with enhanced individuals. Spider-Man has been protected under the good will of Tony Stark, which at the time, was all the we needed to allow Spider-Man the freedom to remain anonymous in his work even after Stark's death. However, in light of recent incidents at the London Bridge as well as the Statue of Liberty, that protection has been called into question. After an investigation, we've found that the protection documents from Tony Stark granting Spider-man's right to be a vigilante as well as work with the Avengers have been... corrupted.

"Until we can meet with Spider-Man or a credible source that can vouch for him to redraft his order of protection, we regret to announce to the public that Spider-Man is to be considered dangerous, and should be avoided. His recent interaction with a local officer—attacking the officer and resisting arrest—proves that what we're doing is for the safety of the people."

"And why would you announce this great news on the Daily Fix?"

Cleary shifted. Forgive him Lord, but Christ on a cross this guy radiated smugness even through the television waves. It's a good thing Matt hadn't caught the attention of the DODC, people tended to look at louder vigilante's before they set their sights on Hell's Kitchen.

"To send Spider-Man a message before things get more messy for him. Spider-Man, turn yourself in, make this easy for everyone. We just want to get to the bottom of things, and the more you resist, the messier things will get—"

A voice message from Peter vibrated his phone, pulling his attention from his morning routine. Sure, listening to the news while drinking caffeine wasn't exactly the best routine for his anxiety, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to keep sane. He navigated his phone to click play on the message, a frown working its way onto his lips.

"Hey Matt, it's Peter, uh, Parker, you gave me your number earlier? I'm just letting you know I finished your embosser and I can give it back whenever. Just so you know I only worked on it for, like, five hours—hah—but you really don't have to pay me or anything. It's okay, like seriously. Anyways just let me know when you're free, or pop by whenever, or, uhm, whatever. Thanks, kay, bye. Yeah."

Well that would have lifted his spirits if Peter didn't sound like he was trying not to cry that entire message. Faintly, he could hear the very same Daily Fix broadcast in the background of the message as he replayed it and listened just a little harder.

Concern filtered into Matt's brain, creasing his eyebrows and the smell of his coffee no longer soothed his wretched soul. He broadened his senses, finding Peter in his studio, heart racing, more than normal, and breath barely under control.

"Stupid," he was whispering to himself, "what if he actually comes down?! Stupid-"

Matt sighed, standing up and abandoning his coffee before turning off the TV. The guest agent had left already. He wanted to hear more about Spider-Man, the name struck familiarity to him in a way he couldn't put his finger on, but the kid downstairs demanded his attention a little more.

He definitely sounded like he needed a friend.

He grabbed his glasses, cane, jacket, enough cash for seven hours of pay, and sent Peter a message announcing that he'll be down soon. Peter received it, took a deep breath, turned off the TV, and wiped—by the sound of it combined with a salty smell—tears from his eyes and cheeks.

Lord, give Matt strength.

[hellsbellschime]

So I'm really at the end of my rope, bitching and moaning under the cut

So for those of you who haven't been around since the stone age or just aren't in the know, my mom is bipolar. Her doctors in their infinite wisdom decided to test taking her off lithium, and shock of all shockers she is now manic as fuck. Like I just got an email from my landlords threatening possible eviction if her erratic behavior doesn't stop even though we haven't even been here for six months level manic.

So, given that she's literally mentally ill and is a selfish, manipulative, uncaring asshole even when she's medicated, she took my brand new car (it literally doesn't even have 1k miles on it yet) probably like 17 hours ago at this point (I have a time-stamped DM about it from like 13 hours ago), did something to damage it enough to need one of the tires replaced (and she says it's fine but somehow doubting it) EARLY YESTERDAY AFTERNOON and she still hasn't come home. I have called repeatedly, she has occasionally answered, and even giving her the biggest benefit of the doubt in the world it should have taken her about 20 minutes to get home when I called two hours ago.

Honestly my level of stress is just unreal, not only has she managed to abscond with and fuck up the most valuable thing I have ever owned in my life that is brand new and was a pretty huge thing for me to even get in the first place, but as you can imagine, this is not my first rodeo so the childhood trauma triggering is A LOT. And I just can't help but hate myself for not disengaging from this mess, deadass I moved to California as soon as I graduated from college specifically so this would not have to be my life anymore, and now here I am going through this same shit years later and never fully being able to enjoy my life and accomplishments because I have to wrangle a literal crazy person who has no one else.

It just sucks, I never asked for this, and unsurprisingly every other person in her life has tapped out over the years because it's too much and she's just too unkind for anyone to power through it for her so-called good times. She has said many times that she would have literally died at some point if it weren't for me, and while I obviously don't want her dead, that is an ENORMOUS amount of responsibility that I never asked for, and it is a responsibility that has drained a lot of good out of my life. I know everyone has to deal with shit, but having to deal with a mentally ill person who just takes and takes and takes and will tell you you're an asshole every time you try to genuinely help them just completely sucks the life out of you. At this point I wish she would just go off and live her dream crackhead life and leave me out of it, FFS we've been living in our new apartment for 5 months and she hasn't given me rent money once so at least I know I can do it on my own if necessary, and I'm just so fucking SPENT. For god's sake, I just called her again in the process of writing this damn post and she started yelling at me as if I'M the asshole in this scenario.

I just want to sit and cry and have the biggest pity party in the world and more than that I JUST WANT THIS FUCKING SHIT TO END and I want to feel like I can have a full life rather than trying to play cleanup crew for a person who treats me this way. I never dislike myself more than I do when I'm around her, and I hate that pity for someone who is frankly a complete asshole even on the best day has kept me trapped in a situation where I always feel like I'm my worst, saddest, meanest self. I'm just so fucking over it and don't want the responsibility of holding someone's life together when it feels like all I've done and dealt with since I was a kid. So all of you mfers better send all of your pity feels my way because literally no one on planet earth has a more difficult life than I do!

[invisibleraven]

Listen I know it's May but... any pairing + going to a pumpkin patch, choosing the perfect pumpkin, decorating for halloween together.

Reggie spotted it as they were taking a leisurely afternoon drive. "Oooh, look a pumpkin patch!"

Alex snorted. "Do you think it's sincere enough for the Great Pumpkin?"

"Only one way to find out!"

"Reginald I swear to God if you think we are staying the night in a pumpkin patch you're crazy," Alex stated, his voice firm.

"No, but we could go get some pumpkins for Halloween," Reggie replied. "It's only a week away and we don't have one yet."

"Because we live in an apartment and the landlord said no gourds in the hallway," Alex retorted.

"We can put it on the table, or the window. C'mon Lex, pleeeeeease?"

Alex knew if he looked at Reggie right then, he would see a pouty lip and big puppy eyes. Both of which he was fairly powerless against. But even without seeing them he gave a resigned sigh and turned towards the patch.

At least Reggie thanked him with a flurry of kisses to his face for it.

It turned out that the pumpkin patch had a whole thing going; a corn maze (which Alex put his foot down about-no getting lost), hay rides (which Reggie delighted in even if the hay made him sneeze), and apple cider which they both declared delicious and picked up a jug of to enjoy at home.

Then it was time to pick their pumpkin. Reggie insisted on traditional orange, even if Alex thought the green and white ones were a little more out there, he couldn't buck tradition.

They trampled through the paths, weighing their options. Alex liked the taller more oval shaped gourds while Reggie favoured a more squat and round pumpkin. So they compromised and got both, even if Alex had no clue where they were going to put two pumpkins in their tiny shoebox of a place.

But Reggie's joy all the way home was infectious as he talked about toasting the seeds to make pepitas, and using the flesh to make pie and cookies. One thing Alex would never turn down was Reggie's culinary efforts.

At home they covered the table in newspaper and got to scooping. Alex kind of hated the slimy pumpkin guts, but Reggie looked so happy to being doing this, and after he made an off hand comment about never getting to do this as a kid after leaving his MeeMaw's ranch, Alex kept his complaints to himself.

Plus soon the house smelled like toasting seeds, and Reggie broke out the apple cider they bought to contemplate their designs with.

"What's wrong with the triangle eyes and a mouth?" Alex asked.

Reggie gave a mock gasp of outrage, pulling out his pumpkin kit, complete with stencils. "No way can we go boring!"

Alex looked at the designs, and grimaced. "Reg, do you really think we can do any of these without cutting off a finger?"

"Sure we can grumpledumpus!" Reggie retorted, smacking a kiss to his cheek. "Just... here, do the friendly ghost. He's easy enough."

Alex looked at the stencil, and the small smiling spirit didn't look too difficult, so he started taping the design to his pumpkin. Reggie refused to show him what stencil he picked, claiming it was a surprise.

The next little bit was spent with the two of them carefully carving and cutting away, chatting aimlessly about anything and everything. Reggie eventually took the seeds from the oven, tossing them in a spice blend that made Alex's mouth water.

"We can eat them later, when we put on a scary movie," Reggie promised.

"I hate scary movies," Alex whined.

"I know," Reggie said with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. "But it means you cuddle me, which we both love."

"You could just ask for cuddles you know."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Finally, their pumpkins were done, and Alex thought his ghost turned out pretty good, even if the eyes were a little wonky looking.

"How'd yours come out?" he asked Reggie.

Reggie spun the pumpkin around and there was a replica of the Sunset Curve logo on it, with each of their initials being used as the road lines.

"Wow, good job sunshine."

"Thanks!" Reggie said, blushing. "I'm gonna get a photo for Insta, then we can get our cuddle on."

Alex pretty much immediately buried his face in Reggie's neck as they sat on the couch, preparing for creepy credits music. Only to lift his head when he heard a very familiar nostalgic tune.

"Seriously? We're watching Charlie Brown?"

"Well I figure we have a sincere enough patch right here, why not?' Reggie replied with a shit eating grin.

Alex smacked him with a pillow, but then snuggled in further, laughing every time Charlie got a rock.

Sure the Great Pumpkin didn't visit them that night, but even Alex would admit the gourd glowing merrily in their windowsill were great enough for him.

[barefoot-a-pregnant]

Something I hear a lot about is how, in the modern economy, it's financially difficult to be a housewife with three kids.

How do you manage it? Is it possible because your husband has a high-earning job? Or do you do what my parents do, and make a lot of financial compromises because you love this lifestyle? Or is it just more affordable in Germany than in the Anglosphere?

P. S. I've been reblogging a lot of your stuff for my blog. I may have a lot of religious differences with you, but I'm not going to try and evangelise to you, and I've always loved learning about other religions.

I think, with the uprising of prices it is really becoming more difficult and I know a lot of people who struggle and don't can stay home with there kids, like they want. How do I manage? Good question. I don't really know. I was staying home with our oldest when she was born, then the second came and then the third. We recieved quiet the amount from a helping fund when I find myself pregnant in the start of corona (in 2020, when we would take this really really serious) and with a husband, that job wasn't stable and a living situation, that wasn't fitting us. I don't feel, like we make compromises to keep this going. We don't become state aid (other then child money) - so maybe my husband is just high earning enough? Maybe we just lucky? *laugh* Yeah, we don't go on vacation. But we could, if we wanted? I making my driving lisence at the moment; we had to move, because our landlords son want our house - so that's this. We buy, what we can. We have a big enough car and so on. It's not like we wish for everything, but I grow up reather poor. So maybe I'm a bit more content with things than people, who grow up middle class and "know another way of living"? Sorry, that I don't have quiet an answer to this! I just do it. *laugh* P.S: Thank you for not pressing your religious outlook to me. I'm quiet happy with how it is and that is, what should matter. Hope you find yourself well and in good health.

[k0o0be]

why travel sucks

ctrl c ctrv

I've tried it. My parents dragged me to all sorts of places when I was a kid. Those holidays always felt like waiting for life to resume. Then I spent two months travelling around Europe with my current partner. While there were some good moments in that, and it did bring us closer together (as most traumatic experiences do) the main memory is of constant stress because of all the unfamiliar places and continuously being surrounded by other people. Not having a easily accessible home to retreat into was awful. Just awful.

When my bf moved abroad for work, I trudged across the ocean twice a year to go see him, but now he's back in our home country and we're living together, there is no reason to go anywhere. I like the town where we live and only leave it if it's absolutely essential (like if our landlord needs us out of the house to do repairs and I have nowhere else to go other than my parents house in another town).

What specifically do I hate about travelling? Airports. Airplanes. In fact, all forms of transport (including private vehicles). Being cramped up with other people with no means of escape. Being trapped on the motorway in a tailback with no escape. The physical agony of waiting to use the bathroom in those situations, as the cramps get worse and worse. Feeling sick on buses and boats because of the motion. Hauling your stuff around and having to worry about losing it. Worrying about missing a connection or a leg of the journey being cancelled so you get stranded for hours. Generally being forced to rely on other people's competence and/or goodwill to get you where you're going.

Then when you actually get to your destination, simple things like eating and doing laundry or catching a bus are that much more difficult because of the unfamiliarity of the new location and the fact that you don't have an established routine. Being tired all the time as a result. Language issues causing awkwardness and again making life difficult. Having to eat food prepared by other people and pay through the nose for the privilege when if you were at home you could make something you actually like in the way that you like it. Even if you get a really nice self-catered, quiet place, wondering why you are spending so much money on it when you already have a nice quiet, self-catered place back home. Most of all, the awful, awful feeling of wanting desperately to be at home and knowing that the only way to do it is to endure a journey of several hours, and pay a huge amount of money (if you're trying to get home earlier than planned). I feel so trapped all the time when away from home.

I don't have anything against other countries. I would move abroad permanently if necessary - I mean, I'd be stressed for a few months until the new place became familiar, but eventually it would become home, which is what's happened every time I've moved to a new city. Then you can stay there forever, or at least for a few years, in comfort. But I see no reason to go through that stressful transitioning period if you're not making a permanent (or at least semi-permanent) change.

a reddit user

[trans-xianxian]

god apparently my landlord is doing an inspection on tuesday but he doesn't know that I have pets so on top of having to clean my entire apartment I'm going to have to hide all evidence of rabbits and find a place for them to go for the whole day -_-

[eroaneki]

I guess it wouldn't be a normal Saturday night without questioning and doubting the future of my relationship. It's becoming more evident to me that we may not be on the same path anymore, in terms of what we want for the future. I want to start focus on buying a house and moving in together, and he seems to want to focus on buying property to rent out to other people (with me). I have no idea how he can even consider that without having his own situation steady first; I guess he just wants to live at home the rest of his life or something. He's deathly afraid of having his name attached to like a 300k+ mortgage but I'm like dude that's... Life. That's literally life.

His logic is if he buys rental properties and rents them out, he can make enough income to where a mortgage to us would be more feasible. But he's honestly just making it more difficult doing it that way because then you become a landlord, and if people done fuck shit up on your property (this is urban NY, people are going to), you'll be x-amount more dollars in the hole to repair things. And you'll STILL not have your own personal shit together.

I mean I hate to be "that person" but I'm 28 this year. I'd ideally want to be married and start having kids around 32. And our goals are just not working out at all. And idk how to really talk to him about this but I also don't want to keep doing this. I also still am going to social events alone and he has zero interest in coming which is incredibly bothersome to me and I'm kind of mad I spent so much time ignoring this shit because I don't want to be going to friend's parties and whatnot and he stays home because he doesn't want to socialize. I feel like a fucking asshole. I also clean up after him a lot; I feel more like a mother to him than a girlfriend. I have near zero sexual interest in our relationship because of this shit too. It just took me a long while to kind of figure all of this out.

I keep wondering if there's men who are more better suited for me out there, but then I wonder if I'll be even more fucked starting over and maybe I won't get to move onto the next step of my life for another 5-6 years. I don't want to be 35 and just starting to have kids.

Idk I feel like I'm being disingenuous but... You change as you get older. You should. You may end up on a different path than the person you're with. The last time we went out and hung out with friends was the 4th of the July, and that was like an hour. Other than that we have zero fucking social life. He's totally okay just sitting home drinking and smoking weed on the weekends, and then wonders why he has horrendous stomach issues and anxiety. I'm just getting really tired of being a mother to him. It's really fucking weighing on me. Because if I want to go out and do something, it's a choice between him or my friends. He won't come because he'd rather stay home. I don't want that. I don't fucking want that for the rest of my life.